Reckless Impulse
by Gracielinn
Summary: Sometimes we all need to step outside of our comfort zones...a chance encounter with a stranger in a bar changes Lucy's life forever...


_A/N #1: This Lucy P.O.V. one shot is a companion piece to my Christmas fic "Bittersweet Solace."_

Reckless Impulse

Lucy Preston was seldom given to making rash decisions. An Assistant Professor of U.S. History at the prestigious Stanford University in San Francisco, a career for which Lucy felt she was particularly well suited, she tended to be thoughtful and methodical, typically erring on the side of caution no matter what challenge each day presented her with. Even as a child, she had been quiet and well-behaved, rarely giving her parents any of the usual problems children are wont to do growing up, not even as a teen ( _her younger sister Amy liked to fondly, although perhaps unfairly, call Lucy a 90-year-old trapped in a 30-year-old's body_ ). In fact, it was a long-running joke in her family, always expressed with much affection, of course, that Lucy usually experienced some degree of discomfort whenever faced with a "coloring outside the lines" (as her sister liked to call it) situation in life. "Luce, you're turning into such a stick in the mud," she'd complain, only half kidding, "Life can be so much more than your career, and for damn sure is too short not to be reckless every once in a while," but Lucy would only smile indulgently and shake her head at her sister's ardent, well-intentioned advice.

On the other hand, in complete fairness to both women, Amy Preston was _born_ a hellion, a true alpha female, something that Lucy simultaneously adored and privately envied about her. Amy always confidently lived life to the fullest, indeed, had done so from the moment she drew breath, and at the tender age of 23, claimed to have no regrets, much to her older sister's bemusement. Despite her sibling's affectionate teasing, there _was_ a certain level of security in making careful choices for herself that the professor found comforting. And although she'd never in a million years give baby sister the satisfaction, Lucy could secretly admit that sometimes, she was very aware that living such a well-ordered life could be considered somewhat dull and probably a little boring. But even if she wanted to "shake things up" a bit, maybe explore some possibilities, sadly, at the age of 30, Lucy Preston honestly didn't have the first idea how to make that happen.

So here she sat, for the third night this week, at a large round table in a nice bar in the Gaslamp District of San Diego with a handful of her Stanford colleagues, all of whom had been attending an education conference at the Civic Center this week that had ended a few hours ago. While the lectures and workshops had been, well, educational, Lucy found the evenings were not the respite she had hoped for. Although she usually enjoyed the company of her fellow educators, all of them were either married or in serious relationships, and this close to Christmas, about the only thing any of them had talked about each evening were plans for the holiday, including, but not limited to, gifts, decorations, baking, and families, especially in-laws.

Unfortunately, Lucy had almost nothing to contribute to the ongoing, seemingly never-ending discussion, considering her current ( _sadly longstanding_ ) single status, not to mention the fact that her mother was in Europe visiting old friends this week, something she had begun the first Christmas after Lucy's father had passed away a few years ago. Even her little sister would be leaving San Francisco on December 25 for a long weekend ski trip with some of her college pals. She had begged Lucy to accompany her, but while she truly appreciated the gesture, Amy's friends were all in their early 20's, and she tended to feel a little out of place on the rare occasions she spent time with them. Lucy sighed, resigned to spending a lonely Christmas by herself in her quiet little apartment after she flew home tomorrow afternoon. Not for the first time, she thought wistfully it might be nice to have a special someone to spend the holidays with.

Supremely bored and trying to think of a way to gracefully escape back to her blessedly single hotel room, she was nodding politely at someone's probably exaggerated complaint about her mother-in-law ( _no telling when Lucy would ever get one of those_ ) when out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a man who looked to be around her age stride confidently up to the bar and sit down by himself. Abruptly, her mouth went dry as, intrigued in spite of herself, she discreetly gazed at the stranger who caught her attention. Tall with dark, close-cropped hair, lean, but with broad shoulders, the mystery guy definitely ticked off nearly every box on Lucy's "buried so far in her subconscious she was barely aware it existed" list of her perfect fantasy lover's physical attributes. ( _Oh my goodness, is this guy for real?_ ) Feeling herself staring ( _possibly drooling_ ), her face reddened when the stranger suddenly went still in mid sip, and Lucy hurriedly dropped her eyes to the drink in front of her, afraid he'd turn around and catch her watching him. Fortunately, her table mates were still involved in trading mother-in-law holiday horror stories, and no one around Lucy even seemed to notice her frequent glances towards the bar. She knew her behavior was likely getting suspiciously close to being creepy, but there was just something about the mystery man's solitary, perhaps quietly despairing demeanor (if she had to give it a name), that touched something deep inside Lucy. Plus, a little voice that naturally sounded very much like her sister's piped up reverently, " _damn, Luce, this guy is smokin' hot_ ," (she did her best to shush that particular one).

She continued to peek at the man surreptitiously for the next hour or so until at last, her colleagues all decided to call it a night, and shrugging on jackets and slinging bags over their shoulders, began slowly threading their way through the tables to the front door. Lucy stood also, and reaching for her things, gave the unknown man at the bar one last, faintly longing look, nearly bumping into her friend, Pam, who had stepped in front of her, asking in a concerned voice, "Lucy?" Flushing guiltily at being caught, "Hmm?" she managed distractedly, when Pam looked toward the bar and grinned at her knowingly before urging Lucy in a fierce whisper to at least go over and sit down and talk to the guy she'd been staring at for the better part of an hour.

"I wouldn't know what to say," Lucy stammered, but her friend merely smiled kindly and advised, "Lucy Preston, you are smart, pretty, and a very good listener. Just be yourself, and you might be surprised," and when she remained unconvinced, the older woman put her hand on Lucy's arm and patted it comfortingly, reminding her that they were 500 miles from San Francisco and would be flying home tomorrow, and even if she made a fool of herself, the odds were astronomical Lucy would ever set eyes on this guy again. Nodding jerkily at her friend, she took a deep breath, squared her narrow shoulders, and walked toward the bar, resolutely ignoring the usual "Lucy" voice in her head that glumly informed her what a bad idea this was.

Thank God the bar was pretty much deserted, with most patrons either downstairs dancing or already gone home, so both bar stools on either side of the stranger were empty. Standing just to the right of him, Lucy asked hesitantly, "Excuse me, is this seat taken?" and caught her breath when, barely making the effort to turn his head, the man glanced up at her indifferently with vivid dark blue eyes ( _yep, that was the sound of another box being checked off her list_ ). She gazed expectantly at him for several long, increasingly uncomfortable moments while he regarded her silently ( _Good grief, she's not even here, but as usual, Amy was right, this guy was gorgeous_ ).

At the stranger's prolonged, borderline-rude lack of response, her face warmed, and clearing her throat nervously, Lucy sucked up the last few remnants of her faltering courage and tried again, "Um, is someone sitting here?" gesturing to the empty bar stool next to him. The man finally shook his head and turning his eyes forward, pretended not to notice as Lucy clumsily perched herself on the tall stool before murmuring breathlessly, "Thanks." His full lips seemed to curl in a faint sneer when she ordered white wine and asked the bartender to start a tab, though she hadn't the slightest idea why.

Lucy politely thanked the attentive bartender when he placed her drink on a napkin in front of her, and after taking a small sip, smiled shyly in hot guy's direction and offered, "My name is Lucy. What's yours?" Looking up from a glass of what looked like whisky a couple heartbeats later, he met her eyes reluctantly, and frowned slightly before he grudgingly replied, "Wyatt," in a dismissive tone. Gratified by his (admittedly brusque) response, her smile widened as she replied, "Nice to meet you, Wyatt. Are you from San Diego?" Her heart sank when Lucy felt rather than saw the mild annoyance on his rugged face while he seemed to consider her question. " _Real smooth, Lucy, starting with such a fascinating icebreaker_ ," she scolded herself, thinking she really was hopeless at this and might as well settle her bar bill now and just go back to the hotel.

But to her amazement, after a slight hesitation, Wyatt revealed he was originally from Texas and currently stationed at Camp Pendleton about a half hour away. Delighted at this unexpected wealth of information, Lucy impulsively quipped, "Ah, a military man from the Lone Star state. Well, that explains quite a lot," and grinned happily at the obviously unintended laughter her comment apparently startled from him, along with the astonishing appearance of a charming set of dimples. Pleased by her fledgling success, Lucy asked Wyatt about Camp Pendleton and the San Diego area, confiding that this was her first visit to the beautiful city, and was thrilled when he began to open up somewhat and tell her about his life in the military. The next few hours passed quickly, as the longer they chatted, the more relaxed the soldier appeared to be, and he seemed genuinely impressed when Lucy informed him she lived in San Francisco, where she worked as an Assistant Professor of U.S. History at Stanford. When Wyatt asked why she was visiting the area, Lucy got a little bit carried away explaining about the conference she'd attended at the Civic Center. As Amy liked to remind her on occasion, she tended to forget that, strangely enough, few people outside of education were actually passionate about education.

Lucy sighed inwardly at her social misstep and glancing up at Wyatt with the intention of quickly changing the subject, caught him blatantly staring at her mouth. Stunned, she blushed hotly and paused mid sentence as he continued to gaze intently at her. ( _This is really happening, right? I'm not just projecting my crazy desires on a total stranger_?) Before she completely lost her nerve, Lucy took a sip of liquid courage, and drifting cautiously towards him, confessed for his ears alone, "I've never done anything like this before..." when Wyatt interrupted her with a simple, "Yes." She leaned back on the bar stool carefully, never taking her eyes off him before managing to say, "My flight home doesn't leave until tomorrow afternoon," and taking a fortifying, albeit shallow, breath, asked, "Would you like to come to my room?" Looking deeply into his warm blue eyes ( _Please, please, say yes_ ), Lucy was terrified she was misreading what had the potential to be the biggest "coloring outside the lines" situation of her life. Wyatt must have seen (and hopefully felt) the same stirring of desire that was slowly coursing through her veins because he leaned in even closer to her and breathed, "Yes," a second time against her cheek. Lucy shivered as she slightly turned her head and her eyes fluttered shut when she felt his breath gently caress her trembling lips.

Lucy opened her eyes in time to see him signal the bartender for their bills, and smiled her thanks when he gallantly paid both over her half-hearted protest. Shrugging on her jacket, she quietly mentioned the name of her hotel, assuring Wyatt it was only a few minutes away. Slightly buzzed now, Lucy enjoyed the sensation of his large hand on her back securely guiding her out of the bar, and was pleasantly surprised when he took her hand firmly in his for the brief walk to her hotel.

Once inside, Wyatt didn't seem to be in a hurry to let go of her hand, and while they waited for the elevator to return to the lobby, she felt him squeeze it gently. Looking up at him, she softly admitted, "I'm a little nervous," and immediately felt better when he grinned endearingly and whispered, "Me, too." Fortunately, the elevator car was deserted because as soon as the doors silently closed, Wyatt pulled her close and began delicately nibbling on her neck with warm, firm lips. Lucy's mind reeled at the feelings he was coaxing from her, and she struggled not to whimper in disappointment when the elevator stopped on her floor and the doors slid open.

She noticed, however, with no small amount of pride, Wyatt's apparent reluctance to remove his hands (and very talented mouth) from her as they made their way down the excruciatingly endless corridor to her room _(of course she was in the room farthest from the elevators_ ). Lucy's hands were disconcertingly shaky as she dug around her bag for the keycard, and she was relieved when he took the card from her hand and opened the door. "Such a gentleman," Lucy praised huskily, and could barely suppress her own amusement when Wyatt flashed her a sexy, dimpled grin as he ushered her through the door.

She watched hungrily as he dropped the keycard on the dresser and shrugging out of his leather jacket, tossed it casually on the chair in the corner before turning to face her. Breathless now with anticipation and arousal, Lucy had no objections when Wyatt tugged her against him and slowly took possession of her mouth as she began to feverishly tear at the buttons of his crisp blue shirt. The well-mannered soldier returned the favor by breaking their kiss long enough to swiftly pull Lucy's soft red sweater over her head. When she fussed in protest, he grinned wickedly and tried to soothe her, "Easy there, Lucy, it's just for a second," and then his mouth was back on hers before she could even blink. A heartbeat later, they were both bare and her mind went delightfully blank at the feel of his lean, nicely-muscled body pressed closely to hers, and when his hot, whisky-flavored lips parted hers, Lucy was helpless to stop the needy little sounds being torn from her as he skillfully, unerringly backed her towards the bed.

By the time her desire-hazed brain registered the edge of the bed against the back of her bare legs, Lucy was flat on her back, having landed with a decidedly unladylike curse. Too far gone to feel the slightest embarrassment at Wyatt's devilish smirk, Lucy yelped when without warning he practically fell on top of her, and found herself moaning in pure feminine satisfaction as his solid, delicious weight settled between her thighs, pressing her deeply into the soft mattress. "Hurry, Wyatt, please," she implored, pulling him to her chest so tightly Lucy could feel his heart pound thunderously. Her own heart was beating so fast, she was nearly dizzy.

When Wyatt abruptly stilled above her, Lucy opened her eyes in confusion. Wearing a thoughtful frown, he gently traced a finger down her cheek before whispering, "Lucy, do you have anything?" At her quizzical expression, his face reddened a little as he clarified, "Birth control?" and smiled somewhat tenderly at her suddenly matching rosy cheeks when Lucy shyly admitted, "Um, well, I've been on the pill for years, and gee, this is so embarrassing, but it's been a really long time since I was with anyone..." and then Wyatt cut her off with a sweet, deliberate kiss before drawing back to murmur it had been a long time for him also. She smiled tremulously up at him and asked hesitantly, "Are we good, then?" and gasped in pleasure as he lowered himself firmly against her before promising, with a determined glint in his dark blue eyes, "Oh, yes, Ma'am, we are definitely good." And more than once, in fact, several times throughout the night, Lucy was thoroughly reminded of his solemn promise.

A thin whisper of daylight was peeking through the heavy drapes when Lucy opened her eyes. She blinked at the unaccustomed weight of a warm, muscular arm draped possessively around her waist ( _What the?_ ) and slowly began to smile as bits and pieces of the past few hours started floating around her brain. " _Oh, little sister_ ," she thought with a delicate shiver, " _You were so right about the benefits of being a little reckless_ ," and bit back a naughty grin at the thought of Amy's face if she could see her big sister now. Lucy was certainly no virgin, but she had never experienced anything like last night with Wyatt (and even she knew how rare what they had shared was for anyone).

He had been tender and demanding and funny and sweet, yet breathtakingly all male, and while a part of Lucy was immensely saddened at the thought of never seeing him again once she flew back to San Francisco this afternoon, a much larger part of her heart was fiercely grateful to have met this man and that she had found the courage to approach him at the bar. Taking a deep breath, she painstakingly slid out from under Wyatt's arm and climbed out of bed, holding her breath as he frowned in his sleep before rolling over on his side towards the windows. Silently exhaling in relief, Lucy stood beside the bed and carefully observed his face as she pulled on her robe. " _Oh, Wyatt, you would be so easy to fall in love with_ ," she thought, her eyes welling up unexpectedly at the thought of bidding him a bound-to-be-awkward goodbye in a couple hours.

Since this was Lucy's first (and probably last) "one night stand," she was uncertain what the protocol was in situations like this ( _Amy would know, her traitorous mind cheerfully suggested_ ), but it suddenly occurred to her that skipping this part of the process could only be in her best interests. She hurriedly took a brief shower in spite of her entirely irrational reluctance to wash the delectable scent of Wyatt from her body, and thankful she had pretty much packed her suitcase yesterday morning before leaving for the Civic Center, hastily shoved the rest of her belongings inside and quietly set it by the door.

Torn between guilty relief at her imminent escape and a strong desire to see Wyatt's deep blue eyes just one last time, Lucy stood for a moment and watched him sleep. He looked younger somehow, perhaps peaceful, and she fervently hoped some of that was her doing. She hesitated for a second longer before going to the dresser where she found some plain white paper in the top drawer. Scratching out a few lines, Lucy folded the paper in half, and bringing it to her heart, said a silent prayer of thanks for the chance to spend what had been the most beautiful, special ( _hell, just admit it, Lucy, the best_ ) night of her life with this man. Placing the piece of paper on the small table beside the bed, Lucy ever so gently touched a fingertip to Wyatt's warm, broad shoulder, and after one last careful look around the room, put on her jacket before picking up her bag and suitcase and leaving the room.

As expected, Lucy endured a solitary Christmas Day, but holding deep in her heart treasured memories of a night spent with a stranger in a city 500 miles away, the holiday wasn't nearly as lonely as she had feared. And although it was extremely tempting, especially when Amy teased her about taking chances, Lucy never shared her experience in San Diego with her little sister. Some memories were just too precious. As time passed, she thought of Wyatt often, wondering if he was still stationed at Camp Pendleton or if maybe he had left the service, and although it was somewhat painful to consider, she did wonder if he ever thought of her. Lucy hoped pensively that wherever he was and whatever he was doing, Wyatt was happy.

 _Epilogue - October 2016_

A long day of teaching, followed by a few quiet moments spent at the bedside of her terminally-ill mother, had somehow culminated in her arrival at the sprawling Mason Industries facility, "summoned" by Homeland Security. In spite of her repeated questions, the agent tasked with delivering her here had been maddeningly silent, and Lucy struggled to control her uneasiness and rising panic. She had followed the unresponsive man through a series of twisting, seemingly deserted hallways, until he had practically thrust her into a room and shut the door firmly, in spite of her sputtering protest. Taking a deep breath, Lucy had turned around and was startled to see she wasn't alone.

An attractive, dark-haired man was sitting on the sofa, long legs propped up on the low table in front of him, booted feet crossed at the ankles, and arms folded firmly across his upper body. He was motionless but for the steady rise and fall of his broad chest, apparently sleeping, which Lucy found hard to believe, considering how hard the Homeland Security agent had shut the door a minute ago. She stared intently at the man, who seemed to be around her own age, for a few seconds, thinking uneasily that he seemed very familiar, but at the moment, she had no idea where she might know him from, and rather unhelpfully, he gave no indication that he was even aware of her presence. With a sigh, Lucy dropped into the chair beside the door, slim fingers absentmindedly worrying the locket she constantly wore around her neck. It was a nervous habit, one she usually wasn't even aware of, although her sister Amy would tease her about it every so often. Thinking of Amy standing at the front door of her mother's home, an alarmed expression on her face as Lucy followed the agent to a large black SUV, only served to heighten her anxiety level.

She attempted, and failed, to speak to the man, and trying again, whispered, "Are you asleep?" To her amazement, he responded quietly, "No, Ma'am." Encouraged, Lucy asked if he knew why the two of them were here. "No idea, Ma'am," was his dismissive, deep-voiced reply. ( _Wait, I've heard that voice before, where do I know this guy from?_ ) Now normally, Lucy was fairly reserved, and usually polite, but as the day she'd had seemed to be turning into an even worse evening, she had reached her breaking point. Without thinking, she snapped, "You know, we're pretty much the same age, so you can quit calling me Ma'am." At her frosty tone, he finally opened his eyes and began to give her a mocking half smirk before his dark blue eyes widened as both he and Lucy stared at each other in stunned shock...

 _A/N #2: Yeah, that's as far as I'm going with this (for now). In response to several requests, I decided to tell Lucy's side of the story. Since I wasn't working under the TFP contest deadline for this one, you might notice it's around 1,200 words longer than Bittersweet Solace, plus I added the epilogue at the end. Hope everyone enjoys this as much as I did while writing it. And now it's back to work on the next chapter of First Steps (promise)...my continuing thanks to everyone for their favorites and follows and extra-special thanks to those of you who are able to leave a review. Your encouragement means so much :))_


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